


Bad Uncle

by 221b_hound



Series: Triptych [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Uncle Mycroft, Uncle-Niece Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 00:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9211445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221b_hound/pseuds/221b_hound
Summary: Mycroft is babysitting Ada and Mae while their three parents have a grown up's night off.





	

“When a Mummy and a Daddy and a Baba love each other very, very much,” Mycroft explained to Ada Lily, while he held Mae Joy in his arms, “Sometimes they like to go out to dinner together, and leave their children in the care of their ill-equipped uncle.”

Ada looked at her ill-equipped uncle with big blue eyes and said, “Can I have ice cream?”

“Of course.”

“And a biscuit?”

“Naturally.”

“And milk?”

“The fridge is full of milk just for you.”

“And a story?”

“The one about the boy pirate and his first mate?”

“REDBEARD THE DOOOOOOOG!” hollered Ada in delighted agreement.

Mycroft grinned. He rather liked telling those stories to Ada. Every one of them true, for a certain value of ‘truth’.

Mae gurgled in Mycroft’s arms, wriggled a bit, and gummed at the sleeve of his very expensive suit.

“Not the Gieves and Hawkes, Mae,” he said gently, replacing the sleeve with the knuckle of his little finger, then, “Come, Ada. Milk, Hobnobs, ice-cream and pirates, and a bottle for Mae.”

Ada turned that into a sort of song: _**Milk** and **Hob** nobs and **Ice** -cream and **Pi** rates, **and** a **Bot** tle for **Mae**!_

Mycroft wondered, as he so often did, how Sherlock had managed to inveigle so much of his high-octane personality into a child that did not have any of his DNA. Much of that must also have come from Mary, he thought. He gazed down at Mae and her solemn pale eyes and crown of dark curls. She looked back at him. Considering. The way John Watson often looked at him. Patient. Waiting. Unimpressed. Although that, too, was Mary.

All so balanced together, those three. Life was altogether astonishing, at times.

Mycroft hoped the Holmes-Watson-Morstans had a fine evening together, and a very fine _night_ , since they weren’t due to collect the children again until tomorrow. And who knew? Maybe they would set about making a nephew for him to spoil as well.

“Uncle My?”

“Yes, Ada?”

“After the pirate and Redbeard, will you tell me a story about the Prince?”

“The Prince?”

“The pirate’s brother is a prince. Baba told me about him. The Prince has a palace and he has the best high teas in the kingdom which he eats all the time, so he’s really fat so he has a nice soft tummy and he’s lovely to cuddle, and he’s in charge of the palace zoo and all the animals do what he says and he rides a lion and he has a court jester named Gladstone.”

Mycroft had a sudden memory of being a chubby little pre-teen and three year old Sherlock falling asleep in his lap, curled up and drooling into Mycroft’s pre-teen pudge. _Lovely to cuddle._ That was… a new perspective.

“I’ll tell you any story you like,” Mycroft promised her.

“And then you can tell me a story about Jane and Doctor Bond,” she asserted.

“Does Daddy tell you that story?”

“No. Baba. Mummy and Daddy read stories from books and Baba makes up the other ones.”

Well, well, well.

“All right,” Mycroft agreed, “But first – ice cream. Which flavour?”

“ALL THE FLAVOURS UNCA MYYYYYYYY!!!!!”

And so Mycroft got a bowl and scooped into it ALL THE FLAVOURS.

Well, Mycroft had never explained that the reason he was ill-equipped was that he never said No to Ada. By the time Mae was old enough to ask for things, he’d be no better at it, he was sure.

Mycroft looked forward to it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> In the next story, we'll find out how John, Sherlock and Mary spend their grown up night together...


End file.
